Return to TV Land

I’m going to take a short break from political writing and do my version of the happy dance. Wednesday night (Thank you, DVR) marked the return of FX’s critically acclaimed drama The Americans. Honestly, this is probably my favorite show on television right now, and when coupled with offerings like Justified and American Horror Story, I think it’s safe to say that Chuck Saftler’s crew at FX has successfully redefined what a show on broadcast cable can be. 

While The Americans hasn’t garnered the type of ratings that other juggernauts of television’s renaissance have attained, I would stack up its storytelling, acting, and production values with anything else out there. Also, Keri Russell has managed to effectively shed any of her remaining delicate flower baggage remaining from her stint as Felicity and stake a serious claim to being one of, if not the, most badass woman on television. It’s not the type of show that you can just drop into, but I would seriously recommend grabbing the first two seasons on DVD and playing some catch-up.

Tempting, but I’ll Pass:

I recently had a conversation with a liberal activist friend of mine and he suggested that Democrats should “team up with Tea Party types to punish John Boehner” (his words, not mine) for inviting Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to speak to Congress on the topic of Iran, while the Obama administration is engaged in talks with the Iranian government over their nuclear program. My friend is a really intelligent guy, so I tried not to dismiss the suggestion out of hand, but it soon became clear that we just have fundamental disagreements about the nature of the right-wing in current American politics. He’s from the camp that thinks that it’s always a good idea to come together with folks on common ground that you agree upon, and I’m of the opinion that the opposition is the opposition for a reason.

At first glance, it might appear that it would be possible to find common ground with Tea Partiers on at least a few issues. They loudly denounce crony capitalism, which should be a decent starting point for collaboration with liberals who are concerned with the growing domination of American politics by corporate interests. Their rhetoric is, however, just a smokescreen, designed to take advantage of and redirect growing populist sentiment towards policies beneficial to the same corporate interests that the Tea Party faithful regularly denounce. A study funded by the National Cancer Institute found that the Tea Party can trace its roots back to the pro-tobacco lobby that was active in the 1980’s. Given that history, alarm bells should be going off at even the thought that a true partnership could be arrived at.

I’ve spent a few days thinking about my friend’s suggestion, and the only conclusion I can come to is that his proposal likely stems from, at least in part, the growing polarization and resulting echo chamber effect between the parties and the ideological groups that make them up. If all you know about the hard-right is what you hear on the news, it would be easy to mistake these folks for people ideologically committed to putting a stop to the insider deals, which can be all too common. Also, given their flag waving personas, the idea of a foreign leader attempting to influence American foreign policy should be exactly the type of thing that would allow for an alliance designed to punish the Republican leadership. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view), I’ve actually had the opportunity to spend some time with the Tea Party base (this is what happens when half of your family is made up of honest-to-goodness wingnuts), and let me tell you there is little to no common ground to be had there, and what agreement that does exist between the far left and right I don’t want a thing to do with.

Simply put, the Tea Party is a reactionary white nationalist party with a heavy dose of theocracy thrown in for good measure. Threats directed at American Muslims after the release of the film American Sniper is just the latest example of the worldview held by the base of this movement. While it theoretically might be possible to use their racism against their congressional leadership on this particular issue, liberals should reject any partnership that would result in teaming up with folks that will likely be spouting rhetoric straight out of the Protocols of the Elders of Zion. For one thing, there’s a fairly extensive history of idealistic activist types being rolled by the hard-right whenever alliances like this have been formed (feel free to do your own research on this, but trust me it’s there). Additionally, partnerships like this risk attaching a stench to anyone even remotely involved. While you might be thinking that you’re simply defending the administration, or hitting back at an outrageous breach of etiquette by the Republicans, what you would really be doing is giving an air of respectability to some rather nasty Anti-Semitism. So, where does that leave us? I, of course, think that John Boehner’s latest gambit is a bad thing for the country, as it risks undermining the administration as they engage in important negotiations. I also would relish the idea of sowing dissension within the ranks of the GOP. However, in this case, doing so would come at too great a cost (on the other hand, if the Republicans insist on tearing themselves apart I do have stockpiles of popcorn). A better strategy for liberals would be to critique the GOP on the merits, that attempting to use a foreign leader, any foreign leader, to influence the conduct of American foreign policy is a dangerous game that should not be played. Beyond that, we can hope that the Obama administration is able to continue its track record of being able to deliver surprisingly substantive accomplishments in the face of outrageous Republican obstruction and sabotage.

Self-censorship and the Left

Jonathan Chait set off a predictable internet firestorm with his piece this week in New York Magazine decrying “political correctness”. His article isn’t a masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination, but Chait’s a grownup with institutional support and can defend himself. However, I would like to touch on one point that he made—the concept of self-censorship. My forum here isn’t large at all; at the moment, I consider it a really good day if a post I’ve written gets more than a dozen views. Still, I find myself hesitant to write about certain topics or reluctant to pursue certain trains of thought out of fear that the post will be noticed by someone inclined to outrage, and that before I know it my inbox will be full of hate mail, and that someone may even decide to go beyond my digital presence and attack me in meatspace. I suppose one of the things that bothers me is that I really have no way of knowing what the potential trip wires are. I mean, I consider myself a solid progressive/liberal/Democrat (whatever terminology we’re using this week), but the concept of micro-aggressions and triggers are so amorphous that it’s impossible to know when you’ve committed an offense until you already have, and I’m starting to think that is part of the point.

Full disclosure—yep, I’m a cis white male, which, if you listen to some online rhetoric, means that I am the source of all of the world’s problems. Whatever good I may have done in this world, it still pales in comparison to the crime of my identity, with some folks. That may be a bit of an exaggeration, but on some days I’m not sure of how much of one it is. So, I suppose here would be a decent place to tell you at least a part of my story. I’ve been profiled. I’ve been yanked out of my car, handcuffed and had my forehead bounced off of the hood for the crime of forgetting my driver’s license in my work pants while having a person of color in my vehicle. I’ve been in the parking lot holding a baseball bat at the ready, along with my teammates, when a riot almost broke out after winning a game in a rural district, which resulted in the opposing team’s parents hurling racial slurs onto the field. I’ve been the kid that was mocked and looked down on for having an accent after transferring in from a minority majority school district. I’ve had teachers at that school subtlety accuse me of plagiarism until I was able to demonstrate that the thoughts in my essays were my own ideas. I’ve watched a reasonably comfortable middle-class existence crumble after both of my parents fell ill. I’ve had the social worker at the Department of Human Services look at me suspiciously, and have been forced to repeatedly verify my lack of resources when the social worker noticed that my clothes weren’t sufficiently tattered after I was compelled to apply for aid following their illness. I’ve had a gun brandished at me for attempting to object to a male verbally abusing their partner. I’ve been credibly threatened with violence for daring to defend the idea of female body autonomy in an online discussion. I’ve been ex-communicated from portions of my extended family for having the nerve to call out their racism when they displayed it in my presence. And after all of that, I’m still more afraid of what you think, rather than what they can do to me. I suppose that, in and of itself, is a form of privilege, but from where I’m standing it sure doesn’t feel that way. I imagine that’s why the arbiters of political correctness are more successful on the left, because we actually care. I'm invested in the idea of social justice, and the idea that my commitment to it could all be somehow nullified for crossing an invisible line is frightening. 

I’m not so blind that I don’t see that the fear I’ve described isn’t experienced even more intensely by members of groups that have been (and continue to be) systematically oppressed, and that their fear is often at more than simply having their identity called into question. What I am curious about, though, is where does that leave me? There’s no way that I’m switching sides, but at times I feel like a man without a country. Is it my role to sit quietly, to be a cheerleader, and at times a convenient rhetorical punching bag? Is it heresy to state that I think the constant self-policing that occurs on the left comes at a real cost? Am I guilty of “whitesplaining” or “mansplaining” if I remind people that there’s a well-funded, highly organized movement dedicated to the opposite of what any of us desire? I don’t know, and I’m quickly approaching a point where I don’t care.

What is it going to take?

Another week in America brings with it another fatal shooting at the hands of police. This time the victim was a 17 year old girl in Texas. The details of the incident remain unclear, but what is clear is that this is a story that has become entirely too common in this country. The past year has witnessed much unrest as citizens have protested around the country against the conduct of law enforcement, and the sense that the criminal justice system is incapable of holding officers accountable when they use deadly force against unarmed citizens. Much of this conflict has been viewed through the lens of race, and rightly so, as any honest appraisal of the situation would lead one to conclude that minorities face disparate treatment in our legal system. However, racial injustice is not the only issue at work in these scenarios. Police shootings in this country occur at rates far higher than in other industrialized nations. The reasons for this undoubtedly have to do with numerous factors, with racial profiling of suspects serving as only one (although almost assuredly a dominant) factor. The killing mentioned above was not of a person of color; Kristiana Coignard was a small white girl. However, she did have a history of mental illness, and that factor is consistent with research complied by D. Brian Burghart, which concludes that in less densely populated areas the most frequent victims of police deadly force are the mentally ill.

A separate incident occurred this weekend which serves as some confirmation of another conclusion Burghart has reached—specifically, that black males are the most likely to die due to police action in densely populated areas. In New Haven, Connecticut, a Yale student and the son of New York Times columnist Charles Blow was detained at gunpoint by a police officer responding to a report of a burglary. While the student survived the encounter physically unharmed, the fact that the officer encountered the young college student with his sidearm already drawn underscores the risk that young black men face regardless of socioeconomic status. That we are likely only hearing this story because the student in question just happened to be the son of a celebrated columnist underscores the circumstances faced by others across the country on the daily basis.

Recently, Congress finally took the step of passing legislation requiring states to report the number of deaths of individuals in police custody, including demographic factors such as race and gender. Currently, it is almost impossible to determine how many individuals die at the hands of law enforcement each year, with current estimates ranging from 400 to over 1,000 annually. While the actions of Congress are an important first step, they remain inadequate to the situation. However, how to proceed forward is at best an open question. Particularly since law enforcement remains one of the few institutions in this country that the public retains a modicum of faith in. In New York, the ongoing conflict between the Mayor’s office and the Police Benevolent Association highlights the challenges that can come from attempting even modest reforms of an institution which is viewed favorably (at least by the “right” type of people). 

I honestly don’t have the answer to this question, and I don’t want to come off as completely unsympathetic to police officers, who perform a difficult and unquestionably necessary job, and do so the overwhelming majority of the time with a high degree of professionalism. Maybe the responsibility is ultimately societal-wide? Perhaps we’re living in the police state that we’ve demanded? (If you think characterizing the nation as a police state is overstating the case, I’d like to remind you that we incarcerate more people in raw numbers and as a percentage of population than any country in the developed world.) If that is the case, changing course is going to have to begin with changing what we demand from our shared society.

Priorities

As a liberal/progressive/Democrat, it sometimes feels like one of our greatest strengths is, at times, a weakness. I’m speaking of the great diversity of experience and opinion within our camp. The right-wing has pretty successfully campaigned on their three G’s (God, guns, and gays) and done so in the service of an agenda which has been responsible for a massive explosion of inequality, and has been detrimental to the well-being of all but the most affluent. They have been able to hammer their talking points home with a discipline that would almost be admirable, if it didn’t come from a place so filled with ignorance and hate. On the other hand, liberals at times seem determined to live up to the stereotype of a person unwilling to take their own side in an argument. I realize that my opinion doesn’t count for much, but I would really like our side of the aisle to pick three issues to focus on and just continue to work toward policies that addressed them. 

If you were to ask me what those issues should be, I would probably decide that we should focus on working to reduce economic inequality, protecting women’s rights (particularly as it relates to healthcare), and working to improve criminal justice policy (specifically as it relates to people of color and the poor). I’m not saying that there aren’t other issues out there that aren’t worthwhile for liberals to concern themselves with, but I do think that these issues would have the best opportunity to bring together the disparate elements within our camp, and that making progress on these topics would improve the probability that success could be achieved on other issues. Additionally, these issues are broad enough that it would allow for a variety of approaches in addressing them, which would allow for our diversity of opinion, talent, and life experience to operate as a point of strength. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that we should be looking to excommunicate anyone from the movement for having different priorities, but asking for a little bit of focus shouldn’t be a position that requires courage to hold (and at times I really think it does at the moment). That’s my two cents on the issue, and of course your mileage may vary. I’d love to hear back from you, and to know what your opinion on this is.